Refuge
by Maria Rene
Summary: Series of one-shots in which various members of the team experience tough times, and seek refuge in their team leader's home. Spoilers abound, and will be marked in each chapter.
1. Prologue

Basic disclaimer while I still remember, characters aren't mine, show's not mine, just borrowing them, all that stuff.

Spoilers for this chapter: 7.10 Faith, and teeny references to 3.21 Bloodbath, Twilight, and possibly a couple others... so teeny you probably wouldn't get them if you've not seen the episodes, really.

A/N: I had not intended on sharing this chapter until I had more chapters done for it, since it's really just a prologue. But today my writing companion, my little dog Caleb, who's kept me company for 15 years, 2 months, and 4 hours, had a stroke while sitting in his wingback chair (nah, not the least bit spoiled...) next to my writing recliner... and an hour later, he was gone. So I wanted to post something, and this just felt right. Gibbs reminds me of Caleb, gruff and terse, but loyal to a fault, and secretly just a big cuddly teddy bear with a heart of gold. So this one's in honor of you, Caleb, my little buddy, gone on to whatever it is that "God's perfect love" means for animals.

* * *

He'd spent an hour in the basement before he could stand to go to bed. He'd sent his father to sleep on the living room couch. Something about that weighed on him, made him feel just a tad guilty. He wondered if he should have sent the dear old Dad up to his own room... but that wouldn't have helped. He wanted his space, needed it, really. The elder Gibbs would just have to deal with the sofa. Gibbs wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be encouraging visits, anyhow.

He climbed from basement to second floor in a series of impatient bounds, slowing only when he got to the top of the stairs. Intent on going to bed, he passed by the second bedroom, then lurched to a stop and stepped back, opening the door and entering the small room. With a slight smile, he let his hand run along the surfaces in the room, the top of the dresser, the framed mirror that had gathered dust since the last time he'd cleaned. He picked up the oversized teddy bear from the bed and sat down on the quilt, remembering how it came to be that this room was no longer a guest room. He wasn't sure, anymore, quite when the shift began. When he'd moved back to this house after so many years away, it had been a guest room. Once he'd finally had the strength to pack up his daughter's things, he'd furnished the room with leftovers from a local motel that had gone under. Not that he ever expected to have guests, but he couldn't stand watching the room sit empty, any more than he could stand for Kelly's room to sit unchanged, a daily reminder that Kelly herself would never have the opportunity to change and grow.

So he had redecorated it in the pleasant but coldly impersonal leftovers from the now-demolished motel a couple miles over. None of that had changed; the furniture and linens were just the same. And yet it was not cold, and far from impersonal, he mused. The four dresser drawers each were neatly labeled, names written on masking tape in his scrawling but readable block letters. In the closet hung an odd assortment of clothes from Tony's overpriced suit to Abby's spare tank top and too-short skirt. On the nightstand sat a couple of well-worn books and a notepad, and of course he was clutching the overstuffed teddy bear, wearing a leather collar. Even Kate's presence was still in this room, though he had long ago packed her things away in a box. But if he opened the closet, he knew, her sensible knit pajamas and spare change of business-casual clothes would be there, staring back at him from the top shelf. He had thought to put them up in the attic with Kelly's things, but he knew that Abby sometimes came here to rummage through Kate's box and remember. The family room, Gibbs realized in amusement, wasn't downstairs attached to the dining room. It was up here. Before he retired to his own bed for the night, he pulled the bedding neat, and wiped down the wood surfaces with a washcloth he took from the bathroom across the hall. Dust rarely built up much between occupants in this room, he had long ago learned, and he wanted the room to be ready when it was needed.

As he entered his own bedroom, his mind went back to those early times. He knew it was Abby who'd first slipped through his defenses, though he couldn't remember anymore when it had been, or even why she had stayed with him. He remembered back as far as that silly nightmare she'd had about autopsy, but he knew it had been before that. She had told him about her nightmare, and the resulting phobia, specifically because she was afraid to go home alone, and wanted to stay with him. No, the first time had to have been before that night, or she would have probably waited until she was an exhausted, nervous wreck before she asked for his help. She had been just as frightened the first time, though, he remembered, and she had a way of bringing out the parental instinct that had long lay dormant in him. She was seeking refuge from the storm raging in her heart, and he wanted to provide it. He hadn't counted on having to dismantle his own defenses in order to break down the walls in his team's hearts, he thought with just a touch of dismay coloring his amusement. It was painful at times to let people into his life, but the reward, to be let into his team's lives in return... yeah, it was worth it, he decided. Most of the time, anyway.

* * *

A/N: Okay, if you want to get a feel for where I'm going with this, my first tale, Fearful Heart's Refuge, was meant to be a standalone. But, I kept thinking about it, and how it's not just Abby who'd turn to Gibbs in a time of need. So that's where I'm kind of heading... I will probably end up reposting that here as a chapter, and I'm going to be picking out some parts in the series where a good bout of angsty character exploration seems logical. I'm working with Ziva after her jogger friend died, right now. I probably won't write or post in chronological order, so if anybody knows how to re-organize chapters once they're shared, let me know. And I've got a dozen ideas but I welcome requests. I may not be able to do requests, my muse is temperamental, but I never know unless I try, right? Thanks for reading.

Dangit, I wasn't going to do this, it is SO not me, but now I'm getting all weepy and sentimental so I guess I will.

In loving memory of my furry little muse, Caleb. October 7, 1996 - February 26, 2010. Caleb, thank you for sitting by my chair all these years, for always being content with a little cheddar and your squeaky ball, for always listening when I needed to talk, for never minding that you got stuck with a disabled human who couldn't walk as long as you liked, and for never once giving me a bad review.


	2. Ziva 4x16 Dead Man Walking

Warnings and such: Alcohol use, outside chance of non-descriptive mentions of abuse, I don't remember if that was this chapter or not. Spoilers for 4.16 Dead Man Walking, and possibly mild ones for earlier episodes. Usual disclosure, they're not mine, I'm just having a little fun with them.

A/N: Thanks to all who've reviewed and left such sweet messages... I've never been the sort to really write FOR others, but your kind words make the chapters a lot easier to write and share with confidence, just the same! Also, I'm having a problem where I upload my Open Office doc and it removes all my line breaks, so I have to do them by hand. I tried copy/pasting too, and as soon as I re-save the doc in the doc manager, it eats the line breaks. I tried saving as an MS doc, and it was the same. Anybody know what I'm doing wrong here? Aaaand, you want to know what I learned while writing this chapter? Tough, I'm telling you anyway! Things not to do shortly after starting a new multi-chapter story: tear a ligament and dislocate three joints in two fingers. Takes forever to type like this. Apologies for any typos or weird formatting that my spell-check didn't catch.

* * *

Gibbs knew she was getting close. In the years he'd managed this particular team, only one of them had yet to go to pieces on him, but he knew it was coming, and he'd been watching for it. The day Ziva started wearing Lt. Roy Sanders' orange hat to work, he knew it would be soon. The only question in his mind was whether he should continue to wait, and risk her burying the pain only to have it explode at the worst possible moment later, or if he should be more proactive. It was always a tough balance, this part. He could afford to sit back and wait with Abby, and even with Tony. They had developed enough trust in their boss; they would come to him when they needed to, with or without invitation. Tim and Ziva, however... they both tended to gain their strength from feeling that they had to prove their worth to him.

Tim, at least, also craved encouragement, so that it only took a gentle nudge to get him to let it out. He chuckled as he remembered Kate, the day she decided to express her fears during working hours. It took her a couple tries, before she got the hint, and saved it for later. Theirs was a job that demanded total control over emotions, Gibbs knew, but he also knew that nobody could do that every waking minute, without winding up crazy, or worse. He had learned that one the hard way. That was why, even though it was hard for him, he had first begun to make space in the off hours for his team's emotions, for fear and uncertainty and the comfort and encouragement that needed to go with all the pain. Nothing about the job was easy, but it was important, and it was rewarding. So this lesson, too, had become important.

So it was also important for him to figure out how to deal with this newest member of his team. She was stubborn, her heart hard as nails, but he knew from experience, that didn't mean it was dead or unfeeling. He watched the way she took off the hat, the expression of pain in her eyes. And then she blinked, and it was gone. No, he thought. He couldn't wait for her to share her heart; she really would wait until the pain got so out of hand that she fell apart at the worst, most stressful, and probably most dangerous moment of a case. No, she needed for him to intervene, to teach this lesson now, whether or not she wanted it. In an instant, he knew how he needed to play this one. He sat back and waited for Tony to pick at Ziva, and sure enough, it only took him a second to start in. He knew he could always count on that boy for that, at least. Carefully watching, Gibbs waited until the height of their verbal sparring, and then swooped in just after Ziva fired her best barb yet.

"Ziva, conference room," he said, as he strode towards the elevator, trusting her to follow. She did, and he stopped between their floor and the one below, as was his custom.

"You want to tell me what's going on?" he asked, trying to be his usual gruff self. He was on working time, after all... this wasn't the time to pry at her shell. Not quite yet. Ziva held her head high.

"Nothing is going on. Tony teases. I respond. It is fine." Oh, forget it, this was going to take too long. He peered intently at her eyes, trying to look through the wall she kept around her heart, even though he knew she wasn't going to let him see anything yet.

"Right now, we don't have the time we need," he began, "but we're not finished here. I'm going to pick you up at seven tonight, and we're going to have dinner, and talk." As expected, the wall around her heart grew another twenty feet higher, right before his eyes.

"I am fine," she insisted.

"It's not a request," he said simply, flipping the switch and setting the elevator car into motion. Ziva nodded her acceptance of his decision. If there was one thing he could always count on from her, it was that she accepted orders, whether or not she liked them. Ziva was the sort of person you couldn't exactly control, but it was only when she truly felt strongly about something, that she crossed that line. This, thankfully, was not one of those times.

* * *

A few minutes before seven, Gibbs arrived at Ziva's door, knocking twice. His knock, she observed, was just as curt as the man himself. She opened it, expecting to exit the apartment, but instead he came inside. Ziva was taken aback by his ability to shove his way into her home without making her feel particularly like he had, well, shoved his way into her home. She knew he would explain what he was doing, so she simply waited quietly for him to get on with it. Gibbs stood for a moment, glancing around the simple but well-decorated apartment, gathering his nerves. Nobody ever knew how often he shook in his boots. He blew out a tense breath, knowing it would come across as an irritated sigh.

"Where's your overnight bag? The one you're supposed to keep packed for cases?" He knew his team kept a bag ready to go, or at least mostly-ready, since usually when they had to leave town for a case, they needed to leave in a hurry.

"I... I have one at my desk at work, one in the car, and one in my closet," she answered. Gibbs smiled outright at that. Ziva could put an entire pack of Eagle Scouts to shame, he knew, but a bag in each location? Now she was just showing off.

"You're going to need one," he said simply, turning to face her.

"Do we have a case?" she asked uncertainly, even as she made her way to her bedroom.

"No. You and I are going to have dinner, and then we'll go to my house and chat."

"Then why..."

"If it gets too late, or we have too much to drink, you may need it." Ziva almost laughed at that. If her boss thought she was stupid enough to get drunk in front of him, he was going to be disappointed. There was no way she would ever let that happen. She knew she couldn't maintain strict control over her emotions or her actions in that state. But she didn't bother to argue. What harm was there, after all, in playing along? She was already tolerating his idea to pick her up, and play chauffeur, after all. Gibbs didn't make any sense to her at this moment, but he was her boss, and he wasn't out to hurt her, and that was reason enough to obey. Besides, even Ziva knew better than to turn down a free meal.

Gibbs took Ziva to a small diner, a quaint little place that reminded her of old movies. It was the first meal they'd really shared, she realized, since she had joined his team over two years prior. They'd spent many days working through meals, grabbing food on the go, and doing whatever it took to survive while working cases, but they'd always taken their food and retreated to their desks, or their own motel rooms, like wild animals skulking off with their portion of the latest kill. This was really the first time she had ever sat down to share a proper meal with her boss. It was nice, she realized, as she laid the paper napkin into her lap. Almost like being friends... almost. They spent the meal chatting idly. He told a few old stories about Tony, much to Ziva's delight. And then, all too soon, she found herself sitting in her boss's living room, her overnight bag sitting ominously on the second stair, as if it knew something she did not, about how the evening would proceed.

As Gibbs had suggested before, he brought a pair of beer bottles from the kitchen and handed one to his companion before sitting at the opposite end of the sofa. Part of him wanted to sit in the chair across from her, but he thought it would be best if she did not have to meet his gaze. Ziva took a couple sips of her beer, more to be polite than anything, before getting to the point.

"What do you wish to discuss?" she asked. Gibbs raised an eyebrow. Well, fine. If she wanted blunt, he could most certainly do blunt.

"I want to know how you're doing, in light of Roy Sanders' death." Gibbs peered expectantly at his agent... well, liaison officer, but to him, she was just another of his agents. The flash of horror across her face told him that she knew exactly what he was going to do to her tonight. A glare settled on her face next, and he wondered if she would storm off and call herself a taxi. He vaguely had a plan to grab her and stop her from leaving, but he also vaguely suspected that he would only end up injured if he tried. But before he could hash out a plan to deal with her rage, he watched her shoulders drop, her hands slip out of her lap as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She grabbed her beer, which had been sitting on the coffee table, and took a long drink before setting it back down.

"I do not wish to discuss it," she said. Yes, that was his stubborn Ziva. He sat quietly, giving her the same patient, expectant look that always worked on Abby. It worked on his entire team, but this member would take longer to crack, much longer, he figured. "You cannot just stare me into pouring out my heart like... like a woman!"

"You ARE a woman," he replied, amusement plainly evident in his voice.

"I am a Mossad officer," came her quick retort, as if that fact somehow proved his statement false.

"You have been trained as such," he agreed, "and you have been trained as an investigator... one of the agency's best. But you are human, first and foremost. You have learned to suppress that humanity, to turn it off like a light when it is a liability, when it's counter-productive to the task at hand. That's a vital skill in our line of work. But you can only suppress it for so long at a time, Ziva. No amount of training can change that reality." The pair sat quietly while Ziva seemed to be thinking, sipping her drink now and then.

"I do not believe I have ever heard you say so much at once," she finally remarked. Again with the dodging. She excelled at sparring, whether physical or verbal. Gibbs held up his beer bottle and shrugged slightly, as if to blame the alcohol for his verbosity. In reality, he fully intended to share with her the lessons he had learned the hard way, many years before, but this was about Ziva. Blaming the beer was an easy answer, that allowed him to keep the discussion focused squarely on her. He could share his own story another time.

"How are you handling Roy's death?" he asked again, after letting her sit and stew for a little longer. It felt strange to call a fellow military man by his first name, but this was how Ziva had addressed the man. Ziva looked up at him, a fire in her eyes, but the pain behind that anger was more evident now than it had been even an hour ago.

"If you intend to force the issue, I will need another one of these first," she spat, waving her half-empty bottle towards him. "And you will have to wait until I am good and ready to speak." He chuckled again. It wasn't an agreement that she needed to talk, exactly. But in her own way she'd let him know that if he would have patience, she would obey his wishes, whether or not she felt she needed to. Sometime this weekend he would have to remember to let her know how much he respected her for that.

"I got time, Ziva," he responded, as he got up to fetch her another bottle. Getting her buzzed was not really how he had hoped to do this, but he knew that it was next to impossible for her to let her emotions out, to talk about anything, ever. Maybe next time, he reasoned, she could try it without needing a chemical to help her along. As he grabbed a couple more beers and headed for the basement, he paused just long enough to glance back at her, and nod his head towards the basement door. She had worked with him long enough to know what that meant, and to his relief, she accepted his decision to move their discussion downstairs.

Once downstairs, he handed one bottle to her, and set his own down, before picking up a hand tool and turning his attention to the boat. Ziva followed his lead, grabbing some sandpaper and a block, and walking around to the opposite side, until she found an area that needed sanding. Together, they worked quietly, for some time. She wasn't sure anymore how much time had passed, though Gibbs could judge the passing of time by how much work he was getting done, and by how much bourbon they had sipped after the beer ran out. It was nearly Saturday already, he mused. No way was he driving her home this late, even if he could somehow sober up instantly. He had taken care not to drink too much, since he knew he needed to be alert to Ziva, if he was going to crack her shell. He certainly wasn't impaired enough to be an unsafe driver, but there are some rules that you just don't fool around with, no matter what.

No matter, though. He had no intention of sending his team member home tonight... maybe not tomorrow either, depending on how their discussion went. Oh yeah. Their discussion. He turned his gaze upward, looking through the skeleton of his boat at his companion, trying to judge if she was ready to talk.

"Quit staring and ask," she said without even glancing up as she continued to sand a particularly rough spot.

"How are you handling Roy's death?" he asked for about the third time that evening. Ziva merely shook her head in reply. He caught sight of her eyes for a moment, and it was almost as if the pain was swimming laps in the unshed tears he saw there.. Gibbs waited a minute to be sure that was her whole answer.

"Doing that well, huh?" he asked. "What happened?" It was really the one thing he wanted to know... how did his tough assassin fall in love, in such a short time? Was love even the right word for what she was going through? He almost hoped so, just so he could understand the dark place where Ziva currently found herself.

"I do..." her voice wavered and she stopped, breathing deeply, trying desperately to put her emotions back into the little box she kept them in. Gibbs almost smiled to himself. He had waited just the perfect amount of time before intervening. She was just as desperate to share her heart, as she was to keep it hidden away. "I do not know," she answered, her voice steady again. "I do not know what happened, Gibbs." He sighed. She really didn't know, he realized, but it was frustrating. How could she not know, after all?

He continued his point-blank tactics, since they seemed to be working so far. "Do you love him?" Ziva set down the sandpaper and block, turning to face her boss. Gibbs was slightly surprised by the fiery defiance he saw in her eyes, especially given that she'd chosen to stay, knowing what he was going to talk with her about. But, he observed, she WAS still here, even though she very clearly wanted to run screaming from the house.

"Do you not mean that in the past tense?" she replied, dodging the question not so artfully.

"His life is in the past. Your heart is in the present. Do you love him?"

"I do not know," she answered yet again, taking the one last sip from her bourbon glass, walking around the boat to set the empty glass down on the workbench. She stood for a moment, thoughtfully, wistfully, before she answered him again so quietly that he almost missed it. Almost. "But I think I would love him," she continued, "if I had just one more day to know him."

Gibbs wasn't sure if it was Ziva's answer, or the way she nearly whispered it, that shook him to his very core. Or maybe it was the tears he saw slipping down her cheeks, before she turned away from his intent gaze. He wondered if he was supposed to reach out and touch her, or what. Abby was so much easier than Ziva. Everyone was easier than Ziva, he thought with a frustrated sigh. He really didn't know what to do. He expected her to fight him, to talk only after he pushed the matter. Getting all of two statements out, and then bursting into tears, was about the last thing he expected. From the way she was standing, it was the last thing she'd expected, too.

So, he went with the one thing he could think to try, knowing darn well that if ever Ziva would beat him to death, this was going to be the thing that provoked her. Sucking up all the nerve he had, Gibbs put his mug down and stepped towards his not-quite-agent, reaching his arms out as if to hug her. But he did not touch her. Instead, he merely held his arms out, letting his hands creep into her field of vision.

"May I?" Gibbs asked quietly, standing just a couple inches from Ziva. She surprised them both by nodding her permission. Gibbs blinked once in shock, then acted before she could change her mind. He grabbed his liaison officer in a bear hug, letting her lean her back against him, lending her his strength while she sobbed in his arms. It felt awkward, letting her rest her back against him. Abby always flung herself at him face-first when she sought his strength. But it was so distinctly Ziva, to keep her back to him. Gibbs stood quietly, part of him wondering what to do for his favourite Israeli, part of him struggling to be the strength she needed. He would never admit it by the light of day, but in these quiet nighttime moments with his team members, he realized just how deeply he loved each of the people he'd been given the honor of working with. He let his head rest against hers, their temples touching gently. If this were Abby, she would want to curl up and be held like a little girl. But Ziva was, as she so often pointed out, a trained assassin. Abby chose to let Gibbs see the injured child she hid beneath her tough exterior. If Ziva had ever had any injured child hiding beneath her exterior, she'd have assassinated it long ago, he mused, almost chuckling at the thought.

As she began to calm down, and the tears and sniffles slowed their pace, she turned slightly so that she could peer at him from the corner of her eye. The pain was still there, he observed, but the twinkle had come back just a little bit, too. She was thinking about something, using her investigative skills to figure him out. Gibbs wanted to ask what she was thinking, but he knew all he had to do was wait a moment.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked. Well, that was just a bit of a letdown... he'd waited for that?

"What do you mean?"

"Gibbs, you are thinking something. There is something you wish to say, or do. I am not so far gone that I cannot see that. Spit it out." Gibbs chuckled gently at that.

"I was just wondering how many quarter-seconds it would take you to kill me, if I tried to kiss you like I do with Abby when she gets upset." Ziva chuckled slightly in spite of herself, and one corner of her mouth turned up. It was far from a smile, he knew, but his efforts were beginning to pay off. He felt her breath quicken, however, and he could almost swear he heard her pulse from his position, with his ear so near the vessels of her neck. She was nervous, he realized, more than a bit shocked by that. He was about to ask if she was all right, when she spoke again, so quietly he almost missed it.

"I would not," she said, almost at a whisper. That seemed to be her M.O., he realized, to say the things he most needed to hear, in a way that he would be most likely to miss them. He wasn't sure if it was because it was just that hard for her, or if she was just giving a token effort and hoping he wouldn't hear her words. But it didn't really matter, he figured, now that he knew what to listen for.

"You would not kill me," Gibbs repeated, just for the sake of clarifying. "Would you be offended?" He'd never asked permission to handle his team as he saw fit, but in this case, he sensed her need to be asked.

"If you treated me as an equal member of your team?" Ziva said, finishing Gibbs' statement in a way that made her opinion evident. "No," she answered, "I would not be offended. A little uncomfortable, maybe, but it is uncomfortable to be the odd man outside, as it is. I would rather be equal." Gibbs blinked a couple times, processing this new information.

"Odd man out, Ziva," Gibbs corrected as he turned and gently kissed her hair, above her ear. That one little act started a whole new wave of sniffles and tears from his distressed companion. At least this time, he thought, her reaction had more to do with feeling accepted, if a bit awkward, instead of from sheer pain and despair. As she quieted a second time, she yawned. He had already started to shift his feet, getting tired of standing up... tired in general, actually. "Are you ready to move upstairs?" he asked. Ziva nodded against him, and he turned loose of his grip.

Together, they walked up to the main floor, and then Gibbs kept going, grabbing her overnight bag as he went. Ziva had been thinking of sitting on the couch again, but she opted to follow her boss as he continued his ascent. He led her into the second bedroom, where he put her bag down on top of the dresser before he sat down on the full-size bed, facing her. He pointed at the second dresser drawer.

"I'll change the label in the morning," he said. "But you can have Kate's drawer." Ziva inspected the dresser as she took in the contents of the room.

"You make a habit of having your team members stay overnight?" Ziva asked, as the meaning of each masking tape label sunk in. "Abby started it," Gibbs answered defensively, as if that made a difference. Ziva smiled, not the least bit surprised. "She had a rough couple of weeks, a few years back. Kept thinking she had a handle on it, the she'd fall apart at quitting time, when she had to go home for the night. Got so fed up with it that I made her collect up a change of clothes to just leave here. Now when she comes, she just leaves whatever she wore that day, and takes whatever was in the dresser from last time. Closet's available, too, if you have anything that needs to be hung up. I moved Kate's things to a box on the top shelf a year ago, but I never had any reason to take the label off her drawer until now."

"Leave it," Ziva said. Gibbs arched an eyebrow in response.

"You wanted to be an equal member of the team," he reminded her.

"Yes, but Kate is a member of your team as well. It was easy to take her desk when I did not know her, but I have gotten to know her through the stories you have all told over the past couple years. I do not wish to take her place on the team. I want to make my own place. Put my name beside hers." Gibbs was shocked, but he nodded in agreement. What did it matter, after all, where the bits of masking tape ended up? And if he were to let himself be completely honest, he didn't really want to take that label off. It was silly, but he didn't think he'd ever get over Kate's death, not really. Keeping her things in the closet, leaving her name on the drawer, he told himself it was for Abby, but really he did it for himself as well.

"I'll add your name in the morning," Gibbs replied. "And I would suggest that you only leave undergarments that you don't mind Tony pawing through. I've told him to respect the privacy of those drawers, but I cannot guarantee that he does." Ziva snorted at the thought of Tony respecting anybody's privacy. He probably danced about with his teammates' underwear on his head when they weren't looking, she thought with amusement.

"I take it the teddy bear is Abby's," Ziva said, stepping away from the topic of her underwear.

Gibbs picked up the bear, his eyes twinkling like they tended to when he saw the chance to tease one of his agents. "What gave you that idea?" he asked, slipping his finger in between the bear's neck, and the spiked collar it wore.

"Oh, a little bird told me," Ziva answered, a similar twinkle dancing across her eyes. Gibbs smiled outright at her willingness to play with him. Yes, he thought, she would be okay. She was far from it right now, but she was getting her feet under her, and beginning to enjoy life again. Healing would take time, but the day would come when she was more or less okay with Roy Sanders' death, even though the sense of loss would never go away.

"Yes, Abby likes to sleep with a stuffed animal," Gibbs answered. "When she's willing to sleep alone at all," he muttered, so quietly that he thought Ziva hadn't heard. In fact, he'd meant not to say it at all, but halfway through his thoughts, he realized his lips were moving. He could already see by the thoughtful confusion in Ziva's eyes, though, that she'd heard every word. Nothing wrong with that girl's hearing, he thought ruefully.

"Where does she sleep?" Ziva asked.

"When she's merely afraid, or hurting, in here," Gibbs began.

"But..?" Ziva asked, not waiting to see if Gibbs would volunteer the rest of the answer.

"But when she's terrified out of her mind, she stays in my bedroom. Like when her stalker ex was after her... and several weeks when I came back from retirement." One of Ziva's delicate eyebrows crept upward at that admission. Gibbs wasn't sure if she was reacting to news that his departure had left Abby so broken, or the admission that they'd shared a bed, but he decided to go for the one of those that would be worse to leave unanswered.

"I don't know how it is for children of the director of Mossad," Gibbs said, "but many American children are permitted to sleep in their parents' bed now and then, when they're too frightened to sleep alone. Abby is no exception." Ah. Ziva had long known that Gibbs treated Abby like his daughter, that she was, to a small degree, a replacement for the child he could never have back. His admission had indeed concerned her, but this made some degree of sense, even if it was foreign to her personally. There were many things about childhood that she couldn't personally relate to, after all.

"I am sure that a great many children share their parents' bed," Ziva replied. "It would not have been tolerated in my home, however."

"You have to be very tough, from a very young age, to survive in a war zone," Gibbs acknowledged. "You've obviously done a great job of that, over the years. But you are in America now, with me. I'm not asking you to forget those skills; they are valuable at times. But you might think about learning some new skills, too. I am an entirely different sort of father, than Eli David is."

Gibbs sucked in a deep breath as he realized just what he'd said. It was another one of those rare moments where he'd opened his mouth, and what flew out was exactly what he didn't mean to say – but somehow ended up being exactly what needed said. He'd never said this one aloud before... never admitted that in his off hours, he played daddy to his largely parent-less team. Other than McGee, none of them had grown up in good situations, he knew. Tony and Abby had endured abuse at the hands of the adults in their lives, and he knew that Ziva had, as well, whether or not she recognized it. Tim had been through his own nightmares, and while they weren't inflicted by his parents, nobody had really intervened, either. But until now, he'd never let himself view himself as the parent of a mismatched pack of adult children. He wondered momentarily if this was how he would have been with Kelly, if he still would have had her over to visit when life got too hard for her to face, even as an adult. But that wasn't reality, he thought, shoving those fantasies aside. Ziva was, and she was still standing by the dresser, still trying to look like she hadn't been crying.

Gibbs reached over and patted the bed next to himself. It was all the invitation she needed to sit down, leaning against her boss. They sat quietly for a few moments before she picked up Abby's teddy bear and cuddled it.

"Her name is Luna," Gibbs said softly, watching Ziva run her fingers through the bear's thick fur.

"Luna?" Ziva asked. He couldn't quite see her face, but her tone told him she was perplexed, and just a touch amused. He shrugged.

"It means moon. It was the middle of the night and she was really sick when she named it." Gibbs instantly went back to that night in his mind. Abby had been so sick that he carried her home from work and put her straight to bed. He'd never seen a mere cold make somebody so sick before. Ziva's chuckle brought him out of that memory.

"Luna seems a very fitting companion for Abby," she observed. They sat quietly a moment longer before Gibbs pressed again.

"Why do you wear his hat, Ziva?" She just stared at him, her amused expression having given way to confusion. He was used to confusion; he saw that every time she tripped over American English. But the forlorn look that mingled with tonight's confusion? Gibbs hated that it existed. For all his attempts to live up to the second B in his name, he really did care deeply for each of his team members, and he hated to see any one of them struggle. He waited patiently, though, because he could see the thoughts brewing in her mind.

"It is all I have," Ziva answered. "It reminds me of Roy. It reminds me of the relationship we had for those last few days of his life. It reminds me of what almost was." Gibbs nodded as he listened. The information was what he expected. He had no idea what to do next. He had a sense that remembering and longing for what might have been, wasn't good for Ziva. And yet, neither was just brushing off her experience as though it hadn't happened, hadn't been important... as if Lt. Roy Sanders hadn't been important. And yet... something more swirled in her eyes, just enough of a something that he had to poke around on this topic a little more.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"His death did not make the news," Ziva continued. "Nobody ever knew that he died protecting the world, in his own way. He did not go out with a bang, as Tony puts it. It came quietly, his whole life was mundane to the rest of the world. But he was one of those quiet heroes... what is the word?"

"Unsung?" Gibbs offered. Ziva nodded. "Yes, he was. He knew he risked his life to protect the planet from nuclear disaster. He probably thought he was at risk of a nuclear accident... anything but one of his own coworkers. But he gave his life in his quest to protect all humanity, in his own way. That's worth honoring." Ziva nodded again, and the pair fell into quiet for a little bit.

"And yes, I love him," she finally whispered, void of emotion, flat and tired. Again, Gibbs almost missed it. Almost. But he couldn't miss the trembling and tears that came with his agent's admission. He instinctively squeezed a little tighter, holding her close with the arm wrapped around her shoulders, as his other hand came up to gently stroke her hair, like he often did with Abby. It was funny, in a way. Even though he tried to treat Ziva exactly the same, he felt somehow more stiff and formal, more unfamiliar, even when going through the same motions. He felt awkward, somehow like he was overstepping his bounds, but she was trying to be a more active participant in this odd little family, and he wanted to make sure she felt well-received. When Ziva calmed down, she began yawning almost incessantly. Gibbs took this as his cue to wrap things up for the night. He was pretty sure they weren't finished, but they could carry on in the morning.

"I'm going to go to bed now," Gibbs said, as gently as he could. "You can stay up as long as you like, and do whatever you want as long as you stay in the house, don't hurt yourself, and don't do any permanent damage." She nodded solemnly and sat up more straight, pulling away from his embrace. He stood up, and turned to face her. Her words from earlier haunted him. She would rather be uncomfortable and equal, than the odd man out. "And Ziva..." he put a hand on her cheek and coaxed her to meet his gaze. "You said you want to be treated equally. You're welcome to sleep here. But the bed and the floor in my room are also available, anytime. And you don't need to think up an excuse, any more than Abby does." With that he kissed the top of her head again, and slipped out of the room.

Once in his own bedroom, Gibbs pulled on some old clothes that would do for pajamas. He heard the water running in the guest bath, and then his team's bedroom door close. He knew she would stay in the other room, but his words were what mattered. She didn't need to accept the offer, just for him to extended it, in order for her to feel like she was being treated as an equal. He left his door open halfway as he slipped into bed, falling asleep within minutes.

It wasn't until well after sunrise that Gibbs woke up. For a moment, he wasn't sure what woke him. It came back to him when he heard the other bedroom door open, and the sound of bare feet padding into his room. A smile played at the corners of his mouth as he watched Ziva crawl onto his bed, having brought the quilt from the other room instead of getting under the covers with him. He turned onto his back and the pair rested quietly for a little bit, just studying the ceiling, before Ziva voluntarily resumed their conversation from last night. Yes, he thought. It would not come quickly, but she had taken that first step. She would be all right, in time.


	3. Kate 1x10 Left for Dead

A/N: Let's see, spoilers and whatnot. We got them for 1.10 Left for Dead, and some mild language, alcohol use (that seems to happen a lot at Gibbs' house), and I think that's about it. I'm not sure yet if I'm happy with this chapter... they feel like they step just a bit too far out of character, but I can't quite put my finger on why. What do y'all think?

* * *

Gibbs wasn't surprised to hear the footsteps above him, as he sat in the basement sipping his bourbon. He'd sort of invited Tony to stay with him while his own apartment was out of commission. He was, however, surprised by the second set of footsteps he heard trudging in along with. And he was curious to notice that the noise suggested his house-guests had taken up residence in the living room. DiNozzo wouldn't bring a date to his boss's house, would he? Certainly he wouldn't do it without asking first, not after the last time. Gibbs sighed and gave up all pretense of working on anything, to go upstairs and see what on earth his agent was doing to his home this time.

His curiosity was quickly replaced with shock when he emerged from the stairwell and got a look into the living room. Tony was sitting on the couch, twisted sideways, his arms wrapped tightly about a woman... who was crying. If this was a date, it certainly wasn't going well, Gibbs thought with a wry grin. But it was what happened next that stopped him completely in his tracks. He alerted the couple to his presence by closing the basement door behind him, and then politely busied himself by getting a glass of water, giving them time to pull themselves together before he turned back towards the living room – and finally saw that Tony's companion was none other than Kate. Damn. He'd always known that she'd eventually follow in the path that his two favored team members had forged early on. But, tonight? Seriously? If he'd thought it would be tonight that she first turned up here, he would have encouraged Tony to go sack out on Abby's couch, or something. Make sure the house was quiet, that Kate would have his full attention... do things proper, you know? What was he supposed to do with two house-guests and only one spare room? Of course, he knew Tony would probably be fine with the couch, but good grief. All he needed now was for Abby to have a falling-out with the boyfriend of the month, and turn up in tears. Gibbs bit his tongue as the thought sprang to mind, worrying that just thinking it would doom him to a night of juggling his small herd of brilliant, but difficult, young people.

He thought about grabbing some beers, but passed on that when he realized how late it was getting. Tony gave a sheepish grin as the elder man dropped in a chair across from the sofa, the question just hanging in the air between them.

"Look what I found in the driveway," Tony said. Gibbs chuckled at that. Of course Kate would just sit in the driveway and contemplate knocking, until she either decided it was too late, or she was discovered.

"Couldn't sleep,"she muttered, as if she needed to even explain, as if she needed an excuse at all. Gibbs dropped onto the sofa, pinning the woman between himself and Tony. Together, the three sat quietly for a few minutes before Gibbs decided to move things along.

"Any reason you couldn't sleep?" He knew the answer, of course. But she was probably here to talk, and he was going to provide her with that opportunity.

"I trusted her," Kate replied, simply, after a minute. "I trusted a murderer." Gibbs wanted to say something to make her feel better, but really, what was there to say? Kate had made a number of boneheaded decisions, starting with letting herself become emotionally attached to their Jane Doe. Kate had never been very good at suppressing her emotions during a case, of course, but the attachment was a new one. He wondered what it had been, about Suzzanne McNeil that had caused Kate to drop her guard... no, she didn't drop it, she picked it up and threw it out the window. Gibbs thought about scolding Kate for her thoughtless choices throughout the case, but that was really more of his work persona. And anyway, he was pretty sure that she was already doing a good job of that on her own. So he continued to sit quietly, letting Kate sniffle between himself and Tony for a little bit.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, having gotten bored with sitting quietly. Kate shrugged in reply.

"I shouldn't have trusted her. I'm a criminal investigator, for God's sake. I shouldn't trust anybody, ever." Gibbs raised an eyebrow at that.

"Swinging that pendulum pretty far, aren't you?" he asked. He agreed that she tended to be far too trusting, for somebody in their line of work, but he didn't want her to suddenly stop trusting her team. And he knew she was sorely tempted to do just that, right now. That was part of why she hadn't come to the front door on her own. She probably would have sat in the driveway half the night, before going back home, if Tony hadn't found her when he arrived.

"I'd be safe," came the quick retort. Gibbs almost laughed at that. Tony did let out a dry laugh before Kate's glare silenced him.

"Kate, if you want to be safe..." Gibbs started, pausing to try to think of how a person could be safe. "Safe doesn't exist. I'm sure Ducky or Abby could quote you some statistics, but you are at risk of being hurt in any number of ways, all the time, no matter where you go."

"People actually keep statistics on these things?" Tony asked, careful to hold back his laughter this time. He knew the situation wasn't funny, but the idea of being safe, physically or emotionally, seemed entirely irrational to him. That was part of why he had chosen law enforcement. Life's dangerous no matter how you go about it, so you might as well be the one with the gun and the badge chasing down the bad guys.

"If you ever have to make a serious medical decision, it can be reassuring to be able to compare the risk to the risk of just sitting home in your living room," Gibbs said with an air of personal experience. Tony wondered momentarily about his boss's past, but knew better than to ask. If Gibbs wanted to talk about it, he would do so. Kate shot a curious glance at Tony, raising her own eyebrow in question. She also knew better than to ask, but he knew his partner was wildly curious, too. Tony shrugged in response to her look.

None of their looks had gone unnoticed by Gibbs, of course, but he had erred by even talking about himself when this evening was about Kate's needs. "You can't live your life cut-off from others, Kate. You'll end up like me, if you do," he said with that twinkle of amusement in his eye, quickly guiding the conversation back to its intended topic. He felt, more than heard, her chuckle at that. Tony, for his part, opened his mouth and then closed it, obviously thinking better of whatever he had been about to say.

"It's stupid to trust people," she replied. Gibbs sighed so forcefully that it was nearly a groan of exasperation. "It's not that I disagree with you," Kate continued. "I just... I don't trust myself."

"Well, now, that's a serious problem for an investigator. Lot more serious than trusting the wrong people at times. You become a risk to yourself and your team when you stop trusting yourself. I'm going to let you in on a secret that you already know, but have obviously forgotten. Even the most trustworthy of people are going to let you down. Even somebody who has your best interest at heart every minute of every day, is going to screw up. You are going to be hurt, you are going to be deceived, no matter what, even if you somehow only pick the most trustworthy people on the planet to interact with. It's a fact of life."

"It's not fair," she grumbled, knowing she sounded like an eight-year-old but not caring right now.

"Life isn't fair," Gibbs said gruffly, before drawing a breath and regrouping. That wasn't quite how he meant it to come out. "I wish it were, I would love to make everything perfectly fair, but that's just now how the universe works." Kate nodded at that, leaning more fully against Gibbs. She was getting a little worn out, he could tell.

"Kate," he began again, "I know you're hurt, and you've got every right to be. But I think that you weren't necessarily wrong to trust McNeil. I think that, when she had lost her memory, she was just a nice lady at heart. The reason I didn't trust that was because I have seen this before. You got two processes at work here. One is that it's a lot easier to be a decent person when you can't remember all the crap you've put up with and the jackasses you've had to tolerate. We become more jaded as we live life, we just watched her do it in fast-forward. The other is that when somebody's the victim of a crime, we'd like to think it's just random misfortune, but statistically, most crime victims were involved in shady stuff that put them at risk in the first place. That's not always the case, but we cannot close ourselves off to all the evidence. I didn't trust that woman because I know both of those issues. You do, too. The only question I have is, what about her made you ignore all of your training and education?" The room was silent for a while, so long that Gibbs glanced over to see if he'd put his agents to sleep with his chatter. Tony, for his part, was half asleep, but Kate was staring straight at her boss, wide-eyed.

"I don't know, Gibbs," she answered. "I feel like I should be able to tell you why I trusted her, but... I can't quite put my finger on it. It was like I knew her somehow. Maybe she reminded me of somebody I trust." Gibbs nodded at that.

"She may have reminded you of somebody you do trust," he agreed. "Maybe reminded you of a friend or family member, or even yourself. She seemed like the sort of person I would respect, in a way... young and innocent and having pursued a rather tough career for a woman, probably because she wanted to save the world in her own way."

"But you didn't trust her."

"No, I did not."

"And you wouldn't have sprung her from the hospital," Kate continued.

"Absolutely not. This house is a circus with just you two and Abby." Kate chuckled at that. "Kate, if you want to do something crazy like that, you can talk to me. I know I tend to just do things and not consult, but that's because I'm in charge here. You, you aren't in charge. You have the luxury of coming to me, and you know that I ignore the rules often enough that I'll listen if you come to me with some crazy idea that just might work. You were right, after all. Taking her places did help her memory. But we could have had this conversation before you became attached, and we could have found a way to jog her memory, that didn't hurt you, Kate. And you can't go back and fix it now, but in the future, remember this before deciding to just go off the reservation." She nodded against him again, letting the words wash over her otherwise numb heart. She didn't feel like reacting, but she did, in fact, feel better now. Gibbs watched his agent lean against his chest for a while longer before speaking again.

"So do you need somebody to tuck you in and read you a story before you'll be ready for bed?" he asked, that sparkle of mirth back again. Kate, not quite sure that Gibbs was completely joking, just stared at him, perplexed, as if he'd just asked her to set his garage on fire. "Well, that's what Abby always needs," he said. Kate chuckled at that. Somehow, Gibbs' description seemed a perfect fit for the odd young woman.

"Thanks, Gibbs, but no. Abby can have all all that to herself, I just need a few minutes to unwind."

"I'm told a make a mean hot cocoa," Gibbs offered. "With real milk and everything. If warm milk doesn't put you to sleep... well, we can always try bourbon." Now THAT was the Gibbs Kate knew. She smiled and nodded.

"I'd love some cocoa," Kate said quietly. Somehow, Tony, who'd started to snore, jerked awake at that.

"Boss is making hot cocoa?" he said, looking just a little bit disoriented. Gibbs laughed out right at that.

"Yeah, DiNozzo, I'll make you a mug too. Why don't you both head upstairs and get ready for bed, and I'll bring it up when it's ready." Kate nodded her agreement and started up the stairs, but Tony sat still on the couch as his boss walked towards the kitchen. The older man paused and turned slightly, hinting that Tony should speak.

"Uh, Boss, you can just leave my mug down on the coffee table," he said.

"I could," Gibbs replied. "But I've got a king bed upstairs, and I think we've shared enough crappy pretend-queen hotel beds that we can handle sharing mine. Besides, the paperwork tomorrow is going to suck enough without a backache." Gibbs almost laughed as he watched his senior agent stare at him uncomfortably, then glance down at the couch, then nod to himself as he thought through Gibbs' simple logic. Tony got up and headed upstairs.

When Gibbs got upstairs with three steaming mugs, he found Kate already under the blankets in the guest bedroom, and Tony sitting on the foot of the bed. The two were chatting, what he'd consider to be small talk, but he could tell by their relaxed expressions, that there was nothing small about this small talk. They were rebuilding Kate's trust in her team, in herself. Gibbs sat down on the small armchair in the corner of the room after handing out mugs, watching the pair as he sipped his own cocoa. It took a little time for his agents to finish with their mugs, with all the conversation going on, but as much as it exasperated Gibbs, it also pleased him. He hadn't felt very confident about bringing Kate onto his team when he'd first made the decision, but she seemed like just the right kind of loose cannon to be a good complement. Now he was certain that she belonged with this odd, mismatched little family. When they were finally finished, Gibbs sent Tony to carry mugs down to the kitchen, ordering him to go to bed when he was done.

"Kate," Gibbs began, once Tony was gone. "There's a drawer here if you want to leave a change of clothes, for nights like this." She peered quizzically at him, at that. Gibbs pointed towards the dresser just beyond his reach. "Top two drawers are Abby and Tony, you can have the next one down. I've been meaning to put nametags on the drawers... I'll get to that in the morning."

"This happens a lot?" she asked.

"You're here tonight, aren't you?" he asked in response, letting that thought hang in the air before continuing. "Abby took it upon herself to teach me the importance of making room in my life, in the off hours, for the kinds of things we dealt with tonight."

"You mean emotions," Kate supplied. Gibbs nodded.

"Yeah. Emotional stuff that we have to ignore during a case. It's got to come out sometime. Much as that annoys me, she's right, and it's not like many people understand the craziness of our jobs. You need that stuff, you come here. I'm not always good at it, but I try." With that, Gibbs stood up and made to exit the room. Kate grabbed his hand before he got the chance.

"You're a lot better at this than you realize." He looked at her for a moment, his eyes a cross between contemplative and appreciative.

"Good night, Kate,"

"'Night, Gibbs." With that, he flicked out the light, and shuffled in the dim hallway towards his own bedroom, where he could already hear his other agent pounding the feather pillows into a nice fluff. Gibbs grinned to himself. No, this would never replace the family he lost, but it was pretty good in its own right.


	4. Abby & Ziva 6x03 Murder 20

I feel like I can never say this enough -- thanks so much, each of you who've reviewed and sent messages! My writing is... well, I learned the hard way not to share it with people in real life. It makes me so happy to know my stories have touched your hearts, as much as they touch mine!! Thank you for letting me know that! It does an insecure Goth's heart good.

Spoilers for 6.03 (I think... can't look it up at present) Murder 2.0 with the cyber-vid killer, and some spoilers for my own previous chapters... not much else. There is the obligatory beer scene... that's about it for warnings. Not much dialog this time... I got the feeling the characters needed just time, for rest and restoration, and to quietly meet their collective emotional needs. (Well, that, and I wrote this thing on my phone, and the quote marks are a pain to get to.) I also feel like I didn't write and rewrite this enough, so I'm eager to hear any advice on what else I could have done with my characters here. I had in mind to torture them a little bit, but.. just didn't happen.

* * *

Gibbs yawned and stretched as he pulled the car into the driveway. Home always looked better after he'd spent a night at the office, and today was no exception. Well, two exceptions, he mused, as he glanced in the mirror to discover his passengers asleep in the back seat. Three, if you counted the fact that he took a Navy car home instead of trying to tuck his weary cargo into his two-door car. Quietly, he closed his own door and opened the one directly behind him. With a gentle hand, he brushed Abby's braid away from her face, waking her in the process. She covered her eyes and yawned, and he wished he could will nightfall to come, so she'd be able to sleep easier.

"Hey," he said quietly, unbuckling her seat belt for her. "We're home. Go get your pajamas on, and get in bed." At the sound of his voice, Ziva also stirred, flinching as she took in her surroundings with a guarded expression before she relaxed and began to extricate herself from the car. Gibbs locked up the car as his two young charges made their way to the front door, almost stumbling as they went. They'd all been able to hold it together to see the case through to its end and save the life of one Rose Woodhouse, but after sitting still for the short drive to Gibbs' house, the exhaustion was starting to win its slow battle with each of them.

He hadn't expected to have houseguests today, not after they had apprehended their criminal, but he wasn't surprised, either. Abby had barely slept all night, he knew. She had promised she'd sleep in her lab, while he spent the night working the case, but he knew that hadn't gone well when she'd started to get irrational hours ago, tearing his cell phone apart to find some imaginary bomb. So he wasn't surprised to see that flicker of fear in her eyes when Vance had told them to go home and get some sleep, nor to hear her soft "no" when he asked if she was going to be all right at her apartment. He knew she was scared beyond anything that logic could soothe, when she first asked if she could stay with him, after they'd discovered that the "intruder" in her lab was nothing more than a camera in the janitor's lunchbox. His heart had tied itself into a thousand little knots when she had asked, and part of him wished he could just gather her up and run away from everything. Just take his whole team and walk away from the case, from crime-fighting, from the danger inherent in working for NCIS. Of course, rational thought prevailed, but he had, for a moment, contemplated just grabbing his loved ones, his odd little family, and dragging them all somewhere where the biggest crime was some kid shoplifting candy at the corner store.

It had been a surprise, though, when Ziva asked if she, too, could stay with him. He'd been gathering up his things, with Abby lurking at the corner of his desk, when she approached. She almost seemed afraid of him, as if he would say no. Gibbs knew his team had been unnerved when they thought that he was the killer's next target, but he hadn't realized just how much that had affected Ziva, with her nerves of steel. She'd begun to let herself experience emotion a lot more in recent months, though, he thought, as he watched the girls let themselves into his house, leaving the door wide open for him as they made their way up the stairs. Somewhere along the way, Abby had reached out and grasped Ziva's hand, holding on as if it was the only thing keeping her safe. Once upon a time, only he could have made her feel secure like that. His heart twinged a little as he realized he was not as vital to Abby's sense of security, as he once was. She was growing up, emotionally, in her own way. It was a good thing, of course... he loved seeing his team rely on one another, acting like a family instead of just a group of unconnected individuals all depending on Gibbs. But even good things can be sad sometimes.

Gibbs paused to close and lock the door behind him. He didn't expect anybody else to arrive today, but if they did, surely he had taught them well enough to just pick the lock. And Abby would feel safer this way. Wearily, he climbed the stairs halfway, just enough to lean and holler up at the closed bedroom door.

"Do either of you need a drink, or something to eat, before you go to sleep?" He heard talking in the bedroom. Somehow he was surprised that the both of them were in there, that neither of the ladies had taken her clothes and retreated to the bathroom. But, he realized, this was also a good thing. Abby and Kate had been that close. He knew they'd never forget the good that Kate had brought to their lives in her too-short time with them, but it was good to see Abby bonding to a new best friend, and good to see Ziva learning how to even have a best friend in the first place. Suddenly, the bedroom door opened, and Ziva's head emerged to peer down the stairs at her boss.

"Abby needs a little something to settle her stomach, but I'm fine." Gibbs nodded, not letting her see his smile as he trudged to the kitchen. He had just the thing for them all. Opening the pantry, he found the box of mini donuts. He'd wondered what he was doing when he bought them the other day. Now he knew. On the way by the fridge, he grabbed a four-pack of juice bottles that he kept around for when there was no time for a real breakfast. This would hold them over until they woke up and fixed a proper dinner.

Gibbs paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking wearily towards the small safe in the living room. Most days, when he got home from work, it was a relief to take his gun off, and stow it. It was the thing that marked his transition from big bad federal agent, to just Gibbs, the man. Today, he wouldn't have that luxury. Oh, he had made the transition, yes, but Abby didn't feel safe yet, and if he were to allow himself to admit it, neither did he. It was illogical, he knew, but he and Ziva could store their weapons in the bathroom drawer while they all allowed sleep to restore them to rational thought. With one last sigh, he made his way up the stairs. He found his girls sitting on the guest bed, chatting idly, trying to stay awake until Abby's snack arrived. Gibbs almost didn't want to disturb them.

"Come on, you two. Let's go crash in my room."

"We are fine in here," Ziva replied, and Abby nodded. Gibbs merely raised an eyebrow.

"Abby, you're going to feel safe enough to sleep, with just one of us?" He watched with amusement as she shifted her eyebrows in frustrated thought, before grabbing Luna the bear and scurrying to the master suite. Ziva followed her, smiling in spite of her obvious discomfort. She was the only member of his team who'd yet to share his room, he realized suddenly. It was oddly fitting that her first time would be for someone else's benefit, rather than her own. Gibbs handed the snacks to Ziva as he grabbed a fresh set of jogging clothes and headed for the master bath.

"Leave me a few donuts," he instructed before closing the door. With a sigh, he stood still for just a moment, seeking peace and calm, before changing his clothes and securing his weapon in the drawer. He wondered momentarily where Ziva had stashed hers, but he was just too tired. She wouldn't do anything dumb with it, he knew, no matter how tired she was. Whatever she'd done, it would be fine. When Gibbs emerged, he finally took note of what his companions were wearing to bed. Abby had gotten into his stash of old NIS shirts, for the both of them. His heart skipped a beat at the sight. Is this what life would have looked like if there had been another child after Kelly, as he and Shannon had always hoped? He chuckled at the thought of raising an amazing assassin-investigator and a truly brilliant Goth. As proud as he was of Ziva and Abby now, he knew he would have completely lost his cool if he'd had to deal with either of them as teens. Gibbs climbed into the bed, effectively trapping Abby between himself and Ziva as he swiped a couple donuts from the box she held. He'd been right to bring that instead of just a snack. Ziva had claimed not to want anything, but even she couldn't resist the chocolate-dipped goodies for long. Together, the trio polished off the box before Abby yawned and leaned fully against her boss.

Gibbs, happy to provide the stability Abby sought, wrapped his arms around her, drawing her nearer before reaching out to grab Ziva and pull her close, fully enveloping the unnerved young scientist between them. Abby's sigh of relief told him this was indeed what she'd needed so badly, since the moment she'd recognized her own lab on the video feed. She'd appreciated the gentle neckrub he'd provided in her lab the night before, but what she really needed was to collapse against Gibbs, and let him provide the strength she couldn't muster up. Ziva, too, seemed more relaxed than she had in weeks, as she leaned on Abby with a small smile. Gibbs realized suddenly that this was how she felt safest soaking up support, when she could make it look like she was doing the giving. He took advantage of that, reaching around Abby to lay a hand on Ziva's forearm. All too soon, exhaustion won over and Abby's relaxed breathing turned to a light snore. Oh well. He could take more time to nurture his treasured young women later. If he let himself be perfectly honest, the case had freaked him out as well, and he, too, needed this time to recover from the stress. Gibbs nudged his companions awake just enough to get them to lie down flat under the covers. Normally he preferred his space to sleep, but the girls were snuggled together, and something about it looked so inviting. Gibbs turned onto his side and laid his arm gently on top of the quilt, guarding the women in his care as they allowed sleep to overtake them.

When Gibbs awoke, night had fallen and he was alone in the room. At once, he was alert, but he relaxed quickly when he heard Ziva's gentle laughter carry from somewhere in the house. He quickly slid out of bed, pausing to neaten the quilt as he went. As he came to the bottom of the stairs, the girls came into view, sitting in opposite corners of his sofa, chatting and laughing. They'd started the party without him, he noticed, observing the six-pack of beer on the coffee table, two of them open and half-finished.

With a mischievous grin, he grabbed a fresh bottle and opened it, taking the space between the girls as he did. Abby instantly clung to him, and he returned the favor, holding her tightly against him, so that her head rested on his chest, at the front of his shoulder. Gibbs took a long drink before setting the bottle down and stretching his other arm out to tug Ziva into his embrace. She gratefully accepted the offered affection, resting her head against him as Abby had, her forehead resting lightly against Abby's. It was so much easier for them both to accept comfort with Abby there to take the focus off of their own insecurities. Her presence somehow gave them permission to treat each other the way he and Abby treated one other.

And so the trio simply sat quietly for a while, the girls letting Gibbs run his fingers lightly through their hair as they all soaked up the all too rare feeling of safety, thankful for the support of this odd little family to get them through the more horrific parts of their dangerous, but vital, jobs.


End file.
